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Scene 1: Drachmour – Fire in Silence
The Captains' Private Training Grounds. Dawn.
The chamber is vast and circular, carved into the heart of the mountain base. Scorch marks tattoo the obsidian walls—each one a silent record of power.
Drachmour stands alone in the center, clad in simple black training gear. His bare arms are wrapped with crimson glyph bindings, pulsing dimly as if breathing with him. The air around him quivers with rising heat.
He lifts one hand, and a column of flame erupts upward—pure, controlled, blinding. It bends with a twist of his wrist, folding like silk before collapsing into a pinpoint and vanishing into the floor.
Another motion: his arms sweep wide. A wave of fire bursts outward in a ring, then rears up, forming a lion-headed serpent of roaring heat. It snaps its jaws and dissolves into ash.
He moves again, silent. No grunts, no cries. Just the steady echo of footfalls and the roar of fire.
From across the chamber, Captain Maris—Custom Operations Division—watches him quietly. Her arms are crossed, but her stance is respectful.
Maris (softly):
"When Drachmour trains like this... it means he's thinking. And when he thinks this hard... he's preparing to shoulder something alone again."
She says no more. She doesn't interrupt. The fire coils around him, wild and magnificent—yet utterly tamed.
The camera lingers on his eyes—lit faintly from within, reflecting flame. Focused. Still.
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Scene 2: Liane – Quiet Confidence
Early morning. The courtyard of her family estate.
A breeze rolls gently through flowering trees. Liane sits beneath one, legs folded, back straight. Sunlight breaks through the leaves and scatters across her shoulders.
She's still. Not meditating—just present. At peace. A closed book rests beside her.
Her lips curl slightly.
Liane (quietly to herself): "So… they won't slow me down after all."
She leans into the tree behind her.
Liane: "Kael's stable. Ren's sharp. That works."
She closes her eyes for a moment—an exhale.
Footsteps approach.
Her younger sister, curious and lively, rounds the tree and freezes mid-step.
Sister (teasing): "Wait—was that a smile? Was training that good?"
Liane opens one eye, unamused.
Liane: "Don't get used to it."
Sister (grinning): "So? What was it like? The arena? The squads?"
Liane (relaxing): "Loud. Focused. Different. But not bad."
Sister: "You staying in Attack?"
Liane (after a pause): "If they don't get in my way… maybe."
The two sisters sit side by side, sun above, nothing pressing.
Liane leans her head back, hair catching the wind.
> She doesn't say it, but the truth is simple: Kael and Ren didn't hold her back. They moved with her.
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Scene 3: Ren – The Observer
Midday. A modest town near the border.
Ren sits outside his family's apothecary, a notepad in hand. The street hums with light noise—carts, chatter, a few kids running.
His eyes move steadily over the page—scrawled notes, diagrams, fragments of observed powers.
Someone passes and waves.
Passerby: "Back already?"
Ren (smiling faintly): "One week's all we get."
He flips a page. Reads. Then gently crosses out a line that reads: "Kael – Wind?"
He doesn't overthink it. Not now.
He scribbles a new note beneath: "Stable, tactical. Reliable."
Then taps his pen to his chin, considering Liane.
"Fast. Direct. Shields second nature."
He doesn't smile, but his shoulders are less tense. He's starting to believe in something.
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Scene 4: Kael – A Normal Day
Evening. The outskirts of the village.
Kael walks a dirt path bordered by tall grass, a basket of herbs in one hand. No armor. No uniform. Just a loose cotton tunic and dark boots.
He greets a few older villagers with a nod, helps one lift a bundle of wood without a word. Children run past him laughing—he watches them, just briefly.
Later:
He and Veila sit near a stream. Their feet are dipped in, and the sky above them turns gold.
Veila (casual): "You really don't miss it? The pressure, the noise?"
Kael: "No. Not yet."
Veila (teasing): "You're not gonna go quiet on me again, are you?"
Kael (flatly): "Maybe. I talk now, remember?"
She smirks. The two of them sit in the fading light. The stream flows, the village hums softly in the distance.
Kael closes his eyes for a brief moment. No tension. No weight.
---
--
Deep in the ruins bordering Volst's old territory,the abandoned bathhouse stood like a corpse left to rot. Cracked stone arches, shattered glass skylights, and moss growing between once-luxurious tile. Moonlight filtered in through holes in the ceiling, illuminating a wide stone pool filled with stagnant water and silence.
The only sound was the occasional whisper of wind and the faint trickle of water dripping somewhere in the back.
Rusk arrived first, his thick boots scuffing the floor as he entered through the side arch. Two bodyguards flanked him—hard-eyed, armed, quiet.
Rusk (muttering):
"If she brought more than two, I'll gut her before we sit."
He scanned the interior. Near the center of the ruined chamber, Neri leaned against a broken marble column, her expression unreadable. Her two guards sat far behind her, unarmed as promised. She'd kept the truce.
Neri (dryly):
"Still slow, Rusk. Volst would've already had a knife to my throat."
Rusk (gruffly):
"Volst is ash."
---
A city map had been etched into the stone floor years ago—decorative, once. Now it served as the perfect makeshift table. One section, representing the southern sector once controlled by Volst, was cracked and blackened.
Rusk stepped closer and gestured to it.
Rusk:
"We split it down the middle. You take the tunnels. I get the market squares."
Neri (raising a brow):
"You're assuming there's anything left to split."
Rusk narrowed his eyes.
Rusk:
"You didn't check it yet?"
Instead of answering, Neri reached into her coat and pulled out something small and twisted. She tossed it across the floor—it clinked once before coming to a stop near Rusk's foot.
It was a scorched dog tag—Volst's mark barely visible beneath the blackened metal.
Neri:
"We went scouting yesterday, after the 'event.' Nothing left. Just smoke...and glasses turned to sand."
Rusk crouched down to study it. The metal hadn't just been burned. It had been warped from within.
Rusk:
"Fire?"
Neri:
"No smell. No heat damage on the buildings. But the ground was… wrong. Twisted. Like it cracked under pressure."
Rusk said nothing for a moment. Then he turned to one of his men and nodded.
The bodyguard stepped forward, reluctant.
Bodyguard:
"We had a runner come back from the edge of the south wall. Said he saw something."
Neri:
"What kind of something?"
Bodyguard:
"Just for a second. A shadow… standing over Volst's courtyard. Wind was howling. And then… nothing."
Neri's face didn't change.
Neri:
"You believe shadows now?"
Rusk:
"I believe what clears out thirty men without a scream."
---
Neri stepped forward, slowly circling the map. Her boots echoed against the cracked tile.
Neri:
"So let's say Volst's gone. Let's say his crew was vaporized. You really want to move your people in there next?"
Rusk crossed his arms, still scowling.
Rusk:
"You here to share fear, or to claim land?"
Neri:
"I'm here because I want eyes everywhere. Even on cursed ground."
They faced each other directly now, both standing at opposite ends of the burned map. No words were exchanged for a long moment.
Neri (smirking slightly):
"Let the fools rush in. We'll watch. Whoever walks out, we decide then if they breathe again."
She turned and began to walk away.
Neri (over her shoulder):
"Leave the tunnels for now. Seal off the south courtyard. We wait."
---
Rusk didn't move. He stared at the twisted tag in his hand, lips tight, jaw locked.
Rusk (thinking):
Volst was mad. But he fought like hell. Something took that from him in seconds.